


The Best of Enemies

by Wallwalker



Category: Skies of Arcadia
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Humor, Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-03 04:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the First Admiral and the Fifth Admiral of Valua would prefer to have nothing to do with each other, but aren't given much of a choice in the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On The Wrong Foot

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was going to be a collaboration for an art-and-fic community, but the friend that was going to do the art never got the time to work on it, and so this has sat, more or less untouched, in my mail folder for almost two years. I figured it was about time I posted it somewhere. I am not sure how long this is going to be, or when I'm going to be able to work on it again, so we'll just have to see.

Oh, what a beautiful day it was. It could hardly have been finer!

Alfonso sang a bit to himself as he walked down the richly-decorated hall of the Royal Wing of the Grand Fortress. He had a room there; the Empress herself had ordered that it be reserved for him at all times, and she insisted that he stay there at least once a week when his duties allowed him to stay in Valua. Since he had been granted the command of the Mid-Ocean Fleet - a post which granted him considerable prestige, yet required very little actual effort, since there was little trouble in that part of Arcadia except for a few dirty and dispirited pirates - he was often able to obey and avail himself of her hospitality. And now he was dressed in his best, for he had the honor of meeting with her himself - with the rest of the Admirals, yes, but he would be the most honored of them all, even if he was not the Lord Admiral yet.

Life could not possibly be finer. Whether he was in his rooms in the Fortress or in his private Upper City estate, he lived in luxury and wanted for nothing. If by some unbelievable chance he did want something that he could not buy - for he was, of course, very rich himself - a simple request prefaced by a few flatteries to the Empress would ensure that it was given to him. It was good to be so favored by the Empress. Even Lord Galcian's unreasonable envy of him could not hurt him, when she was able to protect him.

The thought of Lord Galcian was a jarring note in the lovely opera of the esteemed Alfonso's life, but a bearable one. After all, if Alfonso could only endure Galcian's rule long enough, he was sure that he could end up being given the Lordship himself, in the end. It was only a matter of time. Meanwhile, he was the First Admiral, the shimmering jewel of Valua's Imperial Armada. Yes, he thought again, life was indeed very, very fine.

Still singing to himself, he quickly turned a corner - and stopped just short of stumbling over a complete stranger. He caught himself quickly, however, and steadied himself just in time to keep from falling down. Irritated, he glared down at the interloper - a strange little man, a midget of sorts, dressed like a jester. He wore bright clothes and a ridiculous pair of green felt fairy shoes. But the most eye-catching thing about him was the clear glass dome over his head, the likes of which Alfonso had never seen before. Dials and switches had been arranged on it to appear what seemed to be a smile near the top of the dome, even though the little man inside of it was scowling at a tapestry on the wall. He hadn't even looked at Alfonso.

Well, this wouldn't do. "I _do_ beg your pardon," he said crossly, "but you are standing in my way."

The strange little man didn't turn his head. He didn't have to; the contempt in his tone was clear enough. "I don't see how," he sniffed. "There's room in this corridor for five soldiers to walk abreast, or so I'm told. Surely there's room for you to pass."

"Hardly." So this little creature wanted to be rude? Alfonso gave him his very best sneer, doubly startling on his perfect face. "You are assuming that there is any room in these halls for the likes of you."

His sneer was wasted; the man didn't even turn around. He seemed engrossed in the tapestry, which was made prettily enough but which was so familiar to Alfonso that it bordered on banality. Alfonso was being ignored! The nerve of this little knave...

Alfonso waited a bit longer, until it was quite obvious that the little man wasn't going to speak. "Well?" he finally demanded.

The man finally turned around, stared up at him. He was smiling a wicked, insolent little smile at him. At _him!_ "Oh, I'm sorry, were you saying something important?" he asked in that nasty high-pitched voice, distorted by the glass dome. "All I heard was a lot of mindless prattle."

"Prattle!" Alfonso drew himself to his full height. "You impudent little bastard! Do you have any idea who I am?"

"I'm afraid not," he said, and turned back around. "I must have been too busy to notice when the useless people were introduced."

"What!?" Alfonso sputtered. "You... you oaf! If you were of any deserving station, I would have you dead on the point of my sword in an instant!"

The man laughed, making a sound like rusted metal creaking under strain. "Go ahead," he said. "Go ahead and _try._"

"Absolutely not." He sniffed. "_Your_ blood would only ruin my fine sword." He would have said more, if he hadn't heard the footsteps of guards approaching behind him. "Ah," he said when the came closer, "excellent. Your timing is truly impeccable."

"Lord Alfonso?" one of the men asked. "What do you mean by -"

"Silence," he snapped. He was in no mood for inquisitive guards and their foolish questions. He turned and glared at both of them. "Now, I want you both to pick up this rabble and carry him out of this hall. Deal with him as befits his obviously low stature. I have much more important things to deal with."

"What!?" the man behind him screeched.

Alfonso ignored him. "You men heard my orders," he said sharply. "Now, I must go and see the Empress. Don't bother me with the details, just deal with him." And he swept past the little man and went down the hall, smiling at his own resourcefulness. He had no time to deal with this situation. After all, one did not keep the Empress waiting.

\---

By the time that Alfonso arrived, Lord Galcian and the other three Admirals were already in the throne room, assembled before the Empress. Lord Galcian looked him over as he walked up to join them, with that cold and inscrutable gaze of his. "You have kept us waiting yet again, First Admiral," he said flatly.

Alfonso was used to this. He knew exactly how to defuse the situation. "Yes, my Lord. I'm afraid that I was delayed by performing deeds of value to our beloved Empress." Then he took a step closer to the throne and bowed low. "If Your Majesty would grant Your loyal subject Your forgiveness?"

"Yes, Alfonso, of course." The Empress smiled down on him. "You are forgiven."

"My humblest thanks, Your Majesty," Alfonso said, and gloated silently to himself. After all, if the Empress forgave him, it would be terribly inappropriate for any lesser subject to fail to do so - even the Lord Admiral himself. "Your generosity knows of no bounds."

Thus assured of his safety from Galcian's fits of pique, he turned and joined his fellow Admirals, greeting them as befit their status - a bow to the Lord Admiral, though not nearly as deep as the one he had given his Empress, and civil nods for the Second and Third Admirals. The former, Gregorio, was a man with strong ties to the throne, though they were not as strong as the ties that Alfonso could claim. The latter, a tall, oafish man named Vigoro, was at least worthy of some attention because of his family lines; he was from Upper City, scion of many distinguished Lords and Ladies, even if he himself was a fool.

Of course he said nothing to Fourth Admiral Belleza, who seemed maddeningly unbothered by his lack of courtesy. Typical, he thought. The woman was a slum rat, and would never have risen as high as she had if she had not been chosen as one of Lord Galcian's wards. It was as his departed mother had always said - give their kind any favors at all, and they quickly forgot their natural place in the world. Galcian had been a fool to make her an Admiral, no matter how able a commander she was. Alfonso would never accept lowborn citizens in the Armada's leadership when he become the Lord Admiral. Once he was promoted, things would go back to their proper order!

Lord Galcian cleared his throat. "Now, that we are all assembled," he said, with another sideways glance at Alfonso, "may I be allowed to speak, Your Majesty?"

"Of course, Lord Admiral," the Empress said graciously. She thought highly of Galcian, Alfonso thought bitterly. But he could console himself by knowing that his own place in her eyes was much higher.

"Your Majesty, as I have said to you before, the occupation of Ixa'Taka has proven to be of great value of us. We have discovered vast natural resources - including a mine of green moon stones, one that could meet the energy demands of our entire fleet for years. But such vast resources must be carefully and properly dealt with."

"I see." The Empress frowned. "What do you suggest, Lord Galcian?"

"I believe that we need a long-term military presence in Ixa'taka, Majesty. We need a fleet stationed there, to keep order and manage the land's resources."

"And so you wish to station one of my fleets there," she said. She did not seem pleased. Alfonso could understand why; after all, there were no significant military threats in Ixa'taka, just a handful of crude, primitive ships that were easily crushed by the simplest of attacks.

"Not quite, your Majesty. What I propose is the creation of a new fleet, specialized for the unique challenges of developing the region. I would like to - "

But before he could complete his proposal, there was a sudden commotion behind them as the doors opened. Then Alfonso was shocked to hear a familiar peevish shout. "Put me down at _once!_ I don't care what the miserable fop told you to do, put me _down!_"

Well. This would need to be dealt with, and quickly. Alfonso spun around and fixed an enraged stare on the two guards, who looked considerably more disheveled than before. The little idiot that Alfonso had tried to have removed from the palace was being carried between them, flailing and struggling to break free. His face was bright red. "You two, there, what is the meaning of this?" he snapped. "I will _not_ permit the glorious Empress Teodora to be bothered by this obnoxious rabble! I thought I ordered you to deal with him!"

"Ah, Admiral Alfonso..." One of the guards saluted nervously. "Begging your Lordship's pardon, but we had no chance to tell you before. We were already under Lord Galcian's orders to find this man and bring him to the Throne Room."

"Indeed," said Galcian behind him, his voice amused. "But it seems that the First Admiral has added a bit to my orders."

Alfonso said nothing. He couldn't even fault the men, because they had done exactly what he'd ordered... he couldn't make orders that directly contradicted his superior officer's, after all.

"I commend you both for your attention to orders," Galcian continued blandly. "Leave him here and go."

"Aye, sir!" The two men quickly put the struggling man down. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he wrenched his arms away and rushed away, glaring at them as they quickly retreated.

Alfonso quickly spun to face the Empress. This situation was quickly getting out of control. "Your Majesty, I really must protest!" he exclaimed, before the two guards could leave. "Bringing this uncouth, unmannerly person before the Empress is completely inappropriate!"

"We are inclined to trust our loyal servant's judgment, Lord Galcian," the Empress said coldly. "However, We will be patient, and permit you to explain yourself. Who is this man?"

"This man," said Galcian with a smirk, "is my solution to the Ixa'taka problem. I believe that it is time to add a Fifth Admiral to the Armada's ranks. De Loco is one of my subordinates, and I believe that he is an ideal candidate to deal with this situation." He looked pointedly at the man.

"Hm?" The little man glanced at Galcian, then at the Empress. "Oh, right, right," he muttered under his breath, and turned to the Empress and bowed. "At your service, Majesty."

"Indeed," said the Empress, and Alfonso could hear sarcasm in her voice, faint as it was. He couldn't help but agree. This twisted little man, an Admiral of the Imperial Armada? Preposterous! "At least he possesses some semblance of courtesy. But what good is he, Lord Admiral?"

Galcian was completely nonplussed. "His qualifications for the position are unique. He has demonstrated an uncommon knack for tactics, but that is not my reason for appointing him. He has shown me schematics of his own design, plans for weapons of war that could potentially kill dozens of Valua's enemies -"

"No, I said _scores_ of people!" De Loco interrupted Galcian crossly. "Scores, not dozens!"

Alfonso's much-tried and battered smirk started to emerge again. Ah, surely the fool would be reprimanded now. Speaking out of turn before the Empress was a very poor idea indeed!

"Ah... true, you did say that," Galcian said smoothly. "I stand corrected."

Alfonso's smirk faded again, as quickly as it had come. If anyone else had dared to do such a thing, they would be dead before they fell! How could Galcian allow it? Why was this little creature so privileged? He turned to the Empress, hoping to implore her to rebuke both Lord Galcian and his miserable pet for rudeness, but his heart sank again at the sudden look of interest on her face.

"Scores, you say?" she asked, eyes fixed on De Loco.

"Yes, your Majesty! And if I can get enough raw materials to test and refine my inventions, why, I could kill hundreds!" He shook his fist, cackling evilly. "I could create weapons and ships that would bring entire nations to their knees!"

"Really." The Empress made no attempt to hide her rapt expression. Alfonso could feel any hope of his vindication slowly slipping through his fingers. "You simply must demonstrate for Us at the first opportunity."

"Majesty, if I may," Galcian interjected, "we are already prepared to give a demonstration at the next public execution, should You permit it."

"Of course," she said. "We shall certainly look forward to it." She smiled and raised her scepter. "We must take some time to ponder this new information. You are dismissed, all of you."

She was dismissing them? Alfonso forced himself not to sigh in front of the Empress. How could she be dismissing him too? Usually she asked him to stay behind, to ask for his advice... but now he was being sent away, like any other servant. It was too much for him to bear!

He bowed to her deeply, then turned away, hoping that she would change her mind and ask him to stay behind after all. But she said nothing to stop him from walking out of the throne room, past the unpleasant little man who had caused this situation. De Loco didn't look at Alfonso as he passed, but he laughed. Imagine, that little man laughing at _him!_ Moons, he wanted to turn and stab the little man, cut out his heart, prove that his sword wasn't a toy....

No, he would show restraint, especially before the Empress. So he kept going, back through the palace. He spoke to no one, barely taking the time to turn one way or another until he reached his rooms. He went inside, shut and locked the door behind him, and closed his eyes as he sat down in one of his more comfortable chairs.

The next public execution was in two days. He'd planned on offering his own warbeasts to do the killing, but now... now he was going to have to watch that little troll do whatever he'd had planned. Worse, since he had Galcian's support, he was going to have to pretend to make nice about it, damn them both to the depths of the Deep Sky...

Moons, what a truly horrendous day it had been!


	2. Point and Counterpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which both Admirals try to find their opponent's weaknesses, and one of them succeeds more than the other.

The executions in the Royal Arena were usually a grand show, one of Alfonso's favorites. Seeing men executed for crimes against the Empire soothed his often-stung sense of justice, and he usually came out of them relaxed and ready to face a few more days of chasing Air Pirates. But as far as that went, this last one had been an utter failure. Oh, the criminals had been executed very thoroughly - there had been quite a few of them, pirates and thieves all, and they'd all been dead by the end of it. No question about that.

No, it was _how_ they'd died that bothered him so much. He had watched many state executions, usually at the hands of loyal subjects of the Valuan Empire. Alfonso himself had been given the honor of performing a number of them; his own warbeasts had trampled men men to death on the arena floor. _Those_ executions had been a rare pleasure indeed. Not so with the ones that he had just seen, since they had been engineered by a man whom he believed was deserving of death himself. If the Empress had not specifically requested Alfonso's presence at the executions, he would never have attended. He'd known from the start that they would be a demonstration, that his newest so-called ally - oh, how he hated having to admit that! - was going to show off his inventions.

De Loco had lorded over the arena floor, giggling like a madman the whole time. It was his machines that had performed the executions, and what a sight _that_ had been. The terrible, shambling metal monsters had lumbered into the arena, already filled with the poor wretches, and had killed them all horribly - ripping some to shreds, burning others beyond recognition, smashing still others under their enormous bulk. The sight had made Alfonso sick to his stomach, although of course he would never, ever admit it.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the esteemed First Admiral." De Loco's grating screech was unmistakable, as was the giggle that followed it. "Did you enjoy the show as much as our dear Empress did?"

Alfonso forced a sneer as he turned to look at the gloating little bastard. "Not really," he said, "although it was very satisfying to see you hiding behind your pathetic little machines."

"Hiding behind my machines?" He snickered. "I _am_ my machines, you dolt. They're certainly stronger than those brutish animals that _you_ cower behind, and a good deal more intelligent."

"I highly doubt that. My beasts are bred from one of Valua's finest bloodlines -"

"_In_bred, you mean?"

"- and your machines," he continued, ignoring the jibe, "are no better than junk heaps."

"They are _not_ junk!" De Loco snapped, and his face suddenly darkened. "They're precision pieces of machinery! My weapons can slaughter more men than you or your idiot beasts could ever imagine!"

"Really," he said blandly. So he'd touched a nerve with that. Good to know. "Well, I say that a two-year-old boy with a pile of scrap metal and a mallet could do better."

De Loco waved his stubby arms in rage, and for a moment Alfonso was ready to swear that he was going to have a fit and collapse, right in the castle hall. But then he stopped, and actually _smiled_ again. "Ha, you fool! Why would I care about what _you_ think? You know nothing about my machines. You probably spend hours every morning just combing your hair."

Alfonso blinked, taken aback by the sudden recovery. "I do value my appearance, yes," he said shortly. "As any Valuan nobleman would."

"Of course you do. It's all you've got." De Loco giggled again. "And I'm sure the Empress appreciates all the time that you spend on it, when you two meet for your little trysts -"

"_Enough!"_ Alfonso snapped. He felt his face growing hot, knew that he was blushing. The nerve of that little...! "Insult me if you will, but I will not tolerate such outrageous slander against Empress Teodora!"

"Oh, dear. Did I touch a nerve?" De Loco shook his head. "Don't blame me. I didn't start the rumor; I'm just repeating what everyone in the palace already knows."

"Impudent little -"

"Yes, yes, you've already said that." De Loco yawned. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm a very busy man. I'm going to get back to work."

Alfonso knew that he should have said something as De Loco walked off, some final bit of swift repartee, but he couldn't think of a bloody thing. All he could do was stare at him as he walked away, with the sinking feeling that he'd lost that round. It was unforgivable, losing a battle of wits against such a puny opponent.

At least he'd struck first, he thought, trying to console himself. He'd just have to keep his wits about him. He'd beat the little troll sooner or later.


	3. An Honest Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfonso stumbles upon more than he'd hoped to find.

"You're wasting your time, Alfonso," De Loco said from his seat beside him, his voice surprisingly calm.

Alfonso fought back a sigh of frustration, forced himself to keep his usual air of aloofness. The entire situation was infuriating - he'd been in this workshop for five minutes, and not once had the freakish little midget taken his eyes from the drafting table. The cluttered little room was strewn with machine parts and debris, and there were already strange black marks on the walls that Alfonso hesitated to speculate on. It pained Alfonso to see what had once been a fine sitting room in such a state, but the Empress had insisted on giving it to the little wretch after that atrocious demonstration in the arena. He was supposed to be developing his new machines and weapons there until the new base of operations was built in Ixa'taca, and his own fleet assembled. De Loco should have at least protested his presence there, so that Alfonso could go to the Empress and tell her just how rude he'd been. But no, he was accepting it as a matter of course!

"What are you talking about?" he sniffed, hoping to provoke a reaction. "My use of my own time is none of your business. I'm merely occupying myself by inspecting your heaps of junk."

All that provoked was a slight twitch of De Loco's quill. Clearly he'd hardened himself to those insults. Alfonso fumed; he'd have to think of something new. "Spare me. I know what you're doing, and I'm telling you, you're wasting your time."

"Then what am I doing?" Alfonso asked. "If you're so clever, tell me that."

"You're trying to spy on me, which you're too much a fool to do - you don't even know what you'd look for. Or else you're trying to sabotage my inventions, which you are far too inept to accomplish, since you know nothing about machines. Even if you did try to damage something, you wouldn't be able to do anything that I couldn't undo with a few minutes' work." He giggled. "You don't honestly think I'm stupid enough to leave anything that important within your reach, do you?"

Alfonso's eyes twitched, and he hoped to all the Moons that De Loco hadn't seen it, that he was really as absorbed in his project as he seemed. The little freak could see right through him! How could he have known that the troll was so perceptive? "De Loco, please," he said, "do you really think I'd be so petty?"

"In a heartbeat." De Loco giggled again. Thunder, but that laugh got on his nerves... it reminded him of being a child and listening to the strange sounds that the wind made outside, imagining that a bogey-man was coming to get him. He shuddered, again hoping that he wouldn't notice. "You'd do anything to make yourself look better, because you _hate_ the thought of your Empress paying more attention to me than she does to you, don't you?"

"Leave our esteemed Majesty out of this," Alfonso snapped. "I am her loyal servant! Of course I wish to serve her as well as I am able!"

De Loco kept smirking. He still hadn't looked up, not once.

Alfonso cursed the little man over and over again, under his breath. How could this be? How could this... this insignificant bastard get the better of him so thoroughly? He had to find some weakness, something that he wouldn't be able to brush off, and as he looked around he couldn't think of a bloody thing.

"This is preposterous," he said, storming off to the corner of the room. "Imagine, the Empress allowing you to fill a room with this... this _junk!_" There was a pile of metallic junk there, clearly ancient, and he kicked at it, wanting something to take his anger out on.

"What are you doing!?" De Loco barked, in a very different tone of voice. "Stop that! Stop that right now!"

"Hmm?" Alfonso looked back at De Loco, who had not only looked up from his drafting board, but was standing up on his stool and glaring as hard as he could at him. He blinked, then turned back to the pile of rusted scrap metal. Now that he looked at it a bit more closely, he could see that it bore at least a superficial resemblance to a mining droid, only it didn't look nearly so sturdy. It was a short, squat little thing, with two wheels at its base like a cannon, and a dome-shaped top with strange little protuberances on it - dials, he supposed, shaped like a stylized face. "Oh, this?" He smirked - he couldn't make heads or tails of the thing, but he didn't really care. He kicked at it again. "This pile of junk? Surely this isn't one of your precious inventions -"

He wasn't quite sure what happened next; he had a hazy memory of De Loco leaping from the stool, and then he found himself landing on his back on the other side of the room, thankfully avoiding anything very heavy but doing a very fine job of scattering what seemed to be a pile of blueprints. He pushed himself up, grunting in a most undignified way. "What the blazes are you -"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_" De Loco was standing in the corner now, his stubby little arms wrapped protectively around the rusty metal, his face red and twitching with rage. "Stay away, you stupid fop!"

"What are you blathering about!?" Alfonso jumped up as fast as he could, keeping his right arm near his sword - he didn't much like the look in De Loco's eyes. "All I did was -"

"_I said shut up!_" He was shaking now. Alfonso half-expected him to launch himself at him. "If you ever kick my mother, or even say anything about her again, I'll... I'll... I'll _kill you!_"

"Your _what?_" Alfonso stared at them for a moment longer, then turned away. "Right... I believe I'll stop... stop wasting my time now," he managed, his voice quavering. Then he turned around and beat a hasty retreat, walking as quickly as his shaky knees could manage to the door.

"Good!" De Loco snapped. "Don't come back!" Then he heard him speak again, in a much quieter voice. "Calm down, Mummy, it's all right. I won't let him say anything else about you ever again. Please don't be upset...."

Alfonso swallowed hard and kept walking, knowing that he should be thinking of a way to use this information, but unable to process it properly. Moons, but that was... was...

He needed a drink. He needed a drink very, very badly.


End file.
